


The Battle Faught a Hundred Times

by ghostrags



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Divine Pulse (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22385089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostrags/pseuds/ghostrags
Summary: The battle at Gronder Feild, overuse of the divine pulse takes a toll on Byleth as he struggles to keep his students alive.
Kudos: 18





	The Battle Faught a Hundred Times

He shouldn’t be doing this. He could hardly catch his breath, yet he accepted the air leaving his lungs in a single, forceful, heave as he willed himself minutes into the past. As soon as he registered he was at his target time, he quickly whipped around to the mass of troops,

“Shields!” he bellowed, just in time for the alliance army to take cover from Edelgard’s barrage of fire magic. It had taken out almost a third of the vanguard the first time around, it was too great a loss.

He had memorized every move the Empire would take in retaliation to their onslaught, he knew where every troop was placed, every ambush, every battalion of archers and mages. This time. This time for sure.

Byleth knew the moment Petra was struck down he would have to go back. He was close enough to hear the Brigid woman’s strangled cry as Lorenz’s dark magic tore through her body. He guessed Edelgard was within earshot of the death as well, because not a moment after the Empress gave the order, liquid fire rushed down onto the hill. Byleth abandoned his role to press against imperial troops, running instead to the hill where he could already hear the blood curdling screams of any caught in the trap.

He couldn’t even get close enough to help them. Claude and his wyvern were spared from the torment, catching the updraft of the fire and being carried safely away. Lorenz and Leonie weren’t so fortunate. Their mounts had been knocked prone on impact, being scorched to death almost immediately, their underbellies and faces being clung to and cooked within seconds. Their riders were not so fortunate. The cursed liquid melted through their armor like wet tissue paper and burned further still. Byleth would never forget the sound of their screams, the way their faces twisted in anguish or the smell of their burning flesh.

He didn’t think when he forced yet another divine pulse. He didn’t register the blood that leaked from his nose, it didn’t matter.

It was getting harder to keep track now, not that it mattered. He needed to do this, to keep them alive. It was getting harder to breath, he could taste blood even though any wounds should be healed with the use of the pulse. He felt his legs waver and go numb for a moment, he grit his teeth, steadying himself- No. there was too much to do. 

Claude cast a quick glance, looking him up and down. Byleth felt despair bubble in his chest, what if this was like his father’s death? Fixed in time as a battle that would take the young lives of the children he’d grown so fond of? 

Byleth met Claude’s gaze, “I- I don’t know if we can win th-is” he said, tripping on gasps as he still was short of breath. He must have looked a sight, struggling to breath, nose bloodied and on the verge of collapse. The battle hadn’t even started yet, not for Claude anyway.

“I don’t think we have the luxury of asking at this point” he replied, a well-mannered laugh tagged onto the end, poorly masking the anxiety in his voice. 

‘He’s right’ Byleth thought, gripping the hilt of his sword, ‘I’m not asking again’ 

Byleth would have been startled by the satisfaction that seized him when he ran Edelgard through with his blade if he weren’t so near losing consciousness. He didn’t have the strength to react when Hubert flew by, engulfing himself and the wounded empress in a cloud of dark vapor, disappearing.

And just like that, the empire drew back, at their heels, the kingdom, lead by their feral king. Byleth stood, his bleary eyes fixed on the endless sky above. Unresponsive when Ignatz galloped up next to him, coaxing the man onto his steed so that they might regroup with the others.

He didn’t hear much after that, just ringing, so loud it muffled nearby voices into obscurity. Inky blackness had crept into the borders of his sight, eliminating his peripheral vision all together. He needed to sit down before he fell, his knees were far from trustworthy and he didn't want to allow them the chance to buckle. He decided on the side of the old, oak, transport cart would do. He felt so cold. Byleth collapsed next the wagon’s rear wheel, drawing his legs up and wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to conceal any heat he may have left in his body, before resting his head on his knees and relenting to his heavy eyelids.

It got quite a bit louder around him, he noticed. Something was pushing against his shoulder, something- maybe a hand? Lifted his face up, but he was far too tired to open his eyes. He’d only rest for a moment.


End file.
